Just Desserts
by Kristen Bealer
Summary: In 'The Lab Brat,' Quinn managed to produce a chocolate layer cake. But how did she get it? Find out what happened behind the scenes!


**Just Desserts**

by Kristen Bealer

o O o

Looking desperate as she stood dripping on the Morgendorffers' front step, Brittany asked, "Is Kevin here?"

Quinn smirked. "Sorry, Brittany, but he's very busy working on the maze thing and can't be disturbed."

"Hey, Quinn," Kevin called out. "What's for dessert?"

"But-" Brittany started to say.

Quinn had no intention of letting Brittany get her claws back into Kevin now that she finally had a shot at him-and therefore an increase in her popularity. "Got to go!" she said cheerfully, closing the door in Brittany's face. But even with Brittany successfully dismissed, Quinn began to worry. What if Kevin decided to go crawling back to Brittany anyway? What if Quinn lost his interest? He'd actually started glancing at her occasionally when she spoke to him during the commercial breaks, and it was progress she couldn't bear to lose.

_I need to do something drastic_, she decided. _What did Kevin say? Something about dessert?_

Slowly, as though rusty from disuse, wheels began to turn in her brain. _I heard somewhere that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. It got me an F on Ms. Barch's last anatomy quiz, but maybe it'll come in handy after all!_

o O o

"Excuse me!" Quinn called out, waving the middle-aged man behind the bakery counter over.

"Welcome to Pay-a-Lot," the man said, smiling politely. "My name is Jerry. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, whatever," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Look, do you sell cakes?"

Jerry glanced pointedly at the display counter between them, where dozens of cakes were clearly visible. When Quinn failed to react, he tapped the glass a few times to draw her attention to it. Quinn continued to stare blankly but serenely at him. At last he sighed. "Yes, we sell quite a few cakes. What kind are you looking for?"

Quinn tapped her chin thoughtfully, gazing at the ceiling as she considered his question. Almost a full minute later, she finally answered, "One with frosting."

Jerry tried to hide his smile. "Well, that narrows it down a little, I suppose." He gestured toward the display case. "Would one of these suit you?"

Quinn walked along the case, pointing to each cake in turn. "Too big, too round, not cute enough, too fattening, too invisible-"

"That's an empty platter," Jerry helpfully explained.

Quinn just nodded and continued counting off her complaints. "-too small, needs more pink, too many sprinkles, too square, that heart looks a little crooked, too silly."

Jerry sighed and picked up a binder full of order forms. "If none of these cakes are acceptable, may I suggest you place a custom order? We can make plenty of options that aren't shown here, based on your specific requirements."

"Okay!" Quinn began rattling off a list. "It needs to be pretty, but not too frilly because he might not like it. Really big but not heavy at all so I can carry it without having to strain my wrists. Super yummy, but make sure it doesn't have any fat or carbs or sugar in case he wants to share it. It should send the message that I'm attracted to him but not, like, desperate and if he wants to go out with me he totally needs to make the first move and invite me to Chez Pierre or someplace super nice like that. But not in actual words, because who wants to read a cake, right?" She tilted her head. "Uh, shouldn't you be writing all this down?"

Dropping the binder back on the counter with a loud "thud," Jerry shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I don't think I will be able to help you. In fact, I think the only people qualified to help you will need to have advanced degrees in psychiatric counseling."

"Then how will I get my cake?" Quinn demanded, horrified by his refusal.

Jerry pointed toward the rest of the grocery store. "Baking mixes are in aisle five. Godspeed."

o O o

A young woman stocking shelves in the baking supplies section looked up as Quinn walked by, picking up and frowning at one box of cake mix after another. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, little knowing the fatal mistake she was making.

Quinn pointed at the back of one of the boxes. "This says I have to add water, oil, and eggs."

The employee stood up and came over. "That's right."

"But this is a _cake mix_. All the ingredients should be included!"

"I don't think you're going to find any cake mixes that have liquids already added," the employee gently pointed out. "The boxes would get terribly soggy."

Quinn sighed melodramatically. "Okay, _fine_. But do you have any fashionable ones?"

"Fashionable...cake mixes?" The woman was already started to realize it was going to be one of those days.

Holding up one box, Quinn said, "The lady on this one looks frumpy. And that one over there has a chubby face."

"What about this one?" the employee asked, picking up a box with no people pictured on it.

Quinn studied it appraisingly. "It looks okay, but the logo's red and blue color combination is too garish. Do you have anything in a pastel?"

"This one?" The employee held out a pale pink box.

"Oooh, that _is_ pretty," Quinn agreed, then turned it to see the nutrition label. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" she screamed, dropping the box and taking a few quick steps back from it.

"What's wrong?" the startled employee asked.

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in this?" Quinn demanded, jabbing an accusing finger at her.

"Probably a lot," the employee admitted. "It is cake, after all." Seeing that Quinn still looked both furious and terrified, she shook her head slightly and reached for a different box. "Here; this one's supposed to be low-fat."

Suspiciously Quinn took the box from her and looked at it. "I guess it looks okay," she finally said. "But do you have one with pink frosting instead?"

Bracing herself, the employee said, "The frosting isn't included. We sell a variety of premade frosting just over here, though-"

"Wait." Quinn stood completely still, her eyes burning into the employee's. "Are you telling me that...I not only have to add ingredients, but I have to _frost the cake myself_?"

"Not to mention turn the oven on by hand," the woman added, rolling her eyes. "You know, I'm sure the bakery department could-" She was cut off by a bag of marshmallows smacking her in the side of the head. She glanced over and saw Jerry from bakery peeking around the corner of the aisle, having overheard her on his way to the breakroom. He glared at her and held a finger to his lips to silence her. "Er...never mind."

Tossing the cake mix aside, Quinn whirled around and stalked away. "I may as well just make the whole thing myself, then!" she complained as she left. "I mean, jeez, how hard could it be?"

o O o

"This is freaking ridiculous!" Quinn groaned later that day in the Morgendorffers' kitchen. She hadn't started mixing cake batter or even gathering supplies yet; she was still trying to find a cookbook somewhere in the house. "I just want to find a lousy book!" She shuddered. "Ugh, that sounded soooo wrong."

"Something wrong, honey?" Jake asked, coming in to make himself a martini. From the living room Quinn could still hear Kevin cheering at the Pigskin Channel.

Slamming the last cupboard shut, Quinn turned a pleading face toward her father. "I need to bake a cake, but I can't find any recipes!"

Jake grinned cheerfully. "Oh, is that all? I'll share my secret recipe for Red Hot Chocolate Cake with tabasco sauce and ground jalapeños!" He began going through drawers and cupboards. "Now, where did I put that extra-strength chili powder?"

Quinn pulled Jake away as fast as she could. "I was really just looking for a cookbook," she said.

"No problem!" Jake reached under the kitchen table and pulled out a small and very battered cookbook that looked like it had gone out of print decades ago. "Here you go! Uh, when you're done could you put it back under the table leg so it doesn't wobble?"

While Jake made his martini, Quinn flipped through the dusty pages until she found a cake recipe. "Great! Thanks, Daddy!" she said as Jake returned to the living room. Reading through the ingredients, she began pulling things out and adding them to a mixing bowl. "A half cup of this, three-quarters cup of that-crap, what jerk decided to ruin baking by putting a bunch of _math_ in it?" She shook her head. "I'll just do that thing where you guess and try to get close...astronaut. Hmm, cocoa powder...cocoa powder...aha!" She pulled out a box of instant hot cocoa packets. Taking one out, she tore it open and added it to the bowl. "Next...baking soda?" She went to the fridge for a can of Diet Ultra Cola and poured the whole thing in.

Checking the recipe again, she muttered, "Two beaten eggs. Weird." With a shrug, she got two eggs out of the fridge, set them on the counter, and smashed them savagely with a large wooden spoon. Next she scooped the entire mess-shells and all-and plopped them into the bowl. "Hmm...vanilla." She checked the freezer and found, to her relief, a carton of Neapolitan ice cream. She carefully dug out the vanilla section, proud of her precision in avoiding the chocolate or strawberry. Into the bowl it went.

Once everything had been added, Quinn looked doubtfully into the bowl. It didn't look much like she'd expected, but then she snapped her fingers with sudden realization. "Duh! I have to mix it up first!" She pulled out an electric mixer and began combining the ingredients. It looked a little better then, and she felt a little more hopeful as she pulled the beaters out of the batter-while still running full speed.

"Ewwww!" she cried as the goop splattered the front of her shirt. With a wistful sigh, she reminded herself that it was all for a good cause-landing a quarterback. "Almost done," she added, checking the cookbook again. "'Grease sides and bottom of cake pan,'" she read. "Well, if it says to..." She rummaged through the cupboards until she found the greasiest thing she could-vegetable oil. Turning the cake pan upside-down, she poured a liberal amount on the bottom and outside of the pan. Then she turned it back upright and poured the batter-or something that vaguely resembled batter if you tilted your head and squinted hard enough-into it.

Quinn was just about to put the cake into the oven to bake with the slippery pan fell out of her hands and landed on the floor, splattering the mess everywhere. "Crud!" she shrieked, stomping one foot. "Now I have to start all over!"

Daria, passing through the kitchen on the way to the garage with a hammer and a measuring tape in her hands, stopped and sniffed the air. "Do I want to know what you're doing?" she asked warily.

"For your information," Quinn replied primly, "I'm baking a cake."

"Cake?" Eyeing the sludgy mass oozing across the floor, Daria smirked. "Looks more like a mud pie to me." She leaned in to take a closer look at it. "Is that eggshell?"

Quinn let out a derisive laugh. "Learn your colors, Daria. That is _clearly_ mahogany!"

Daria shook her head as she walked through, carefully avoiding the mess. "Just promise me-"

"-to save you a piece?"

"Only if you can't think of a more humane way to kill me."

When Daria had left, Quinn sighed and began wiping up the mess. Just as she was dropping an armful of paper towels into the garbage can, the phone rang. She answered it, grateful for the distraction. "Hello?"

"Quinn? It's Jeffy."

"Tell her I'm here, too!" Joey's voice added.

"And me, Jamie!" There was a pause. "Tell her I'm the blond one."

After a brief round of shushing, Jeffy's voice came back on the line. "Anyway, Quinn, are you doing anything tonight?"

Quinn was about to tell them that she was busy and couldn't go out on a date when inspiration struck. Running a finger through some of the leftover goop, she asked, "Actually, would you guys like to come over to my house? I've got a reeeeeeally fun idea, as long as you don't mind getting a little sticky!"

o O o

Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie arrived in record time. They stood in the kitchen, crestfallen, as Quinn showed them her recipe and explained what she wanted. "...So we're going to work together as a team, right? If you three would just mix up the ingredients and bake the cake and frost it for me, it would _totally_ help me out!"

"And which part are you going to do?" Joey asked.

"Research and development, duh," Quinn replied, pointing at the cookbook. "I found the recipe!"

"Uh, right," Jamie said, shooting a glance at the other two, waiting for one of them to argue so he could valiantly leap to her defense. "That makes sense." Joey and Jeffy only nodded in agreement.

"Great. Byeeee!" Quinn sang, wiggling her fingers in a cheerful wave as she left.

The three boys looked at each other warily. "Does anyone else think this seems...girly?" Jeffy asked, worried.

"Naw," Joey said. "It's definitely badass. You beat the hell out of a bunch of ingredients, then torch it in the oven. Then you slice that bad boy up into pieces."

"Cool," Jamie said, almost breathless at the thought.

"It's like an action movie!" Jeffy added.

"Dude, I need to start watching the cooking channel more often," Jamie agreed.

"C'mon, let's do this," Joey said, pulling the cookbook over for a closer look.

Jeffy grabbed the book and set it in front of himself. "Quit hogging it," he said.

Jamie pushed in between them to see the recipe. "Out of the way!"

After a short yet violent struggle, they finally agreed to prop the cookbook up against the coffee maker where all three could easily read it. Pressed in side-by-side, they each began to read the recipe. Jamie, turning to get the flour, collided with Jeffy, who was also turning to get the flour. They fell into a tangled heap, clearing the way for Joey to bound over them and grab the bag first.

"Yes!" he cried, spiking it. It hit the floor and burst open, dusting them all with a powdery white coat. "Oops."

Once they'd located a second bag of flour, they agreed to each get different ingredients out. Jeffy went to the fridge for the eggs, opening the door just in time to smack Jamie with it as he walked past looking for the baking powder. Jamie reeled backward, knocking over Joey just as he was reaching for a bottle of vanilla. Joey landed behind Jeffy's feet, tripping him as he stepped backward with the eggs, which he immediately dropped. One fell directly onto Joey's forehead with a splat while the other flew through the air and hit Jamie square in the middle of his back, smearing egg yolk down the length of the back of his shirt.

"Hey!" they both yelled at Jeffy.

"It's okay," he reassured them, holding up the carton. "There are still plenty of eggs left!"

"Gimme those," Joey snapped, jumping to his feet and grabbing at the eggs.

Jeffy yanked them away just in time. "Watch it," he snarled, elbowing Jamie hard in the stomach as he tried to snatch them while Jeffy was distracted.

"Fine," Joey replied sulkily. "I'll get the cocoa powder, then."

"And I'll get the sugar," Jamie wheezed, rubbing his stomach. The three boys exchanged glances through narrow eyes for a moment, then leapt into action as each tried to complete his task before the others.

Jeffy cracked eggs into the bowl so hard the shells went flying in the air. A few flecks even stuck to the ceiling. Joey crammed heaps of cocoa powder into a measuring cup fast enough to kick up a brown cloud around himself. When it settled, he was lightly coated from head to toe with a fine brown film.

"You look stupid," Jamie snorted, pouring sugar into another measuring cup. Annoyed, Joey grabbed the cup and threw the contents into Jamie's face. "Hey!" Jamie yelled, coughing as sugar went up his nose and down his throat.

As they added the last of the ingredients in a frenzied whirlwind of activity, Jeffy lowered the beaters into the bowl and turned on the mixer. "Level two?" Jamie asked, smirking. "That all you got?"

Scowling, Jeffy flicked the knob up to level five. "Wuss," Joey remarked.

Jeffy twisted the knob all the way to ten with a glare at both of them. The batter whirled around the bowl, almost spilling out as Jeffy beat the ever-living hell out of it. Once everything was combined, Jeffy gave the batter a couple more thumps for good measure and turned off the mixer. "You've been creamed," he said in his best action hero voice. He chuckled at the joke and looked at the others, who didn't even smile. "Get it?" he asked. "Creamed?" Still no reaction. "To beat something until it's smooth and fluffy?" They just shook their heads. "Whatever. It's done," he finally said grumpily.

"I'll pour it in the pan!" Jamie said, reaching for the bowl.

"Ohhh, no you don't!" Joey snarled, grabbing the other side of the bowl.

"Like I'd let either of you hog all the glory," Jeffy said, grabbing onto the bowl as well. All three began tugging the bowl back and forth, and with each yank the batter threatened to spill.

"Guys, what are we doing?" Joey suddenly shouted. "This is for _Quinn_, remember?" Jamie and Jeffy, looking ashamed, loosened their grips on the bowl. "Psych!" Joey said triumphantly, pulling the bowl away and pouring the batter into the pans.

Jamie and Jeffy looked ready to attack him, but at that moment Quinn came back into the kitchen. "How's it going?" she asked cheerfully, either not noticing or ignoring the horrific mess that covered just about every inch of the room.

"Just about to put in the oven!" Joey said, holding up the pans.

"I cracked the eggs!" Jeffy quickly added.

"And I, uh, didn't screw anything up!" Jamie said.

"Wow!" Quinn breathed, grinning at them. "It looks great. Kevin's going to love it!" Turning to leave, she said, "Let me know when it's done, 'kay?"

The three boys stared at her as she walked away. "Did she just..." Jeffy said.

"...say the cake..." Joey continued.

"...is for _Kevin_?" Jamie finished.

They all looked at each other for a moment. "On it," Joey said at last, heading for the sink. Opening the cupboard underneath, he rummaged around for a few seconds before emerging with a container of rat poison. He poured a generous portion into the batter in both pans, which Jamie and Jeffy stirred before putting into the oven to bake.

As Jamie set the timer, Joey idly asked, "You don't think that's going too far, do you?"

The three boys thought about it. "Nah," Jeffy finally said.

"Oh, okay," Joey said, reassured.

o O o

"Look what I made, Kevin," Quinn sang out as she entered the garage later that day holding a chocolate layer cake.

"No ice cream?" Daria replied with a small smirk. "I wouldn't put up with that if I were you."

"Uh, yeah," Kevin said, distracted. "Thanks, Quinn. Leave it by the TV."

Setting the cake down on the table next to the mouse's cage, Quinn grumbled, "'Leave it by the TV.' It's like we're already going out."

"There you are!" Brittany cried from the doorway.

"Yo, babe," Kevin replied cheerfully.

As Brittany began badgering Kevin and Daria about the maze, Quinn looked on in triumph. Unnoticed by anyone, the mouse in the cage sniffed the air near the cake and then curled up in the far corner, shivering with fear.

Brittany soon left, summoned by Upchuck, while Kevin returned to the living room to watch the game. Quinn trailed after him and Daria turned her attention back to the maze in hopes that she could repair the damage Kevin had caused before the assignment was due. After she left, the cake sat ignored and untouched until Jake came out to the garage in search of his old journal to show Kevin.

"Wow, neat!" he said, spotting the cake. "Free garage cake!" He picked it up and brought it back into the kitchen, where Helen was angrily mopping up the last of the mess.

"How on _earth_ did we end up with cocoa powder in the toaster?" she was grumbling to herself. She looked up and saw Jake. "What are you doing with that?" she asked.

"I found it, just sitting around waiting for some lucky guy to eat it!" he replied happily, getting a plate and knife out. "You want some?"

Helen tossed a filthy washcloth into the sink with a disgusted sigh. "Jake, you know you're not supposed to be eating all that fat and sugar. What would your doctor say?"

He paused just as he was about to cut into the cake. "Um...don't look a gift cake in the mouth?"

"_Jake_."

Giving the cake one last, sad look, Jake put the knife down and went back into the living room. Helen finished scrubbing the stove top with a sponge and looked thoughtfully at the cake. She was just starting to reach for it when her cell phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered it, forgetting about the cake immediately. "Oh, hi Eric. Well, no, I don't believe anyone has ever sued Santa Claus for breaking and entering but-yes, of course you're right, there's a first time for everything!"

She left the kitchen, still agreeing with Eric, as Daria came in for a glass of water. Seeing the cake, she leaned in for a closer look.

"Is that still here?" Quinn asked, following her into the room. "Ugh, the Fashion Club would freak if they knew I had this in the house. Can you believe Kevin didn't even try any?"

"I'm more surprised he was smart enough not to taste anything you baked," Daria replied, looking at the cake and then at Quinn. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait. How _did_ you manage to make a cake?"

"I have my secrets," Quinn replied smugly. "Sure you don't want a piece before I throw it out?"

Daria picked up her glass and shook her head. "Like I said before," she told her sister. "Only if you can't think of a more humane way to kill me."


End file.
